Hearts of Red and Gold
by moonyschick25
Summary: Each of the four boys expected something entirely different from the school they'd soon call a second home. None of them expected the friendship they'd form with each other.


_A/N: This used to be massive, 42,000 word work-in-progress beast, but I've lost interest in doing a coherent storyline thing with the Marauders. Also, a lot of the original isn't very good. So I've salvaged those parts I really do love, and I'll be uploading them as separate stories as a sort of series of drabbles that are all loosely connected. I'm not done with the Marauders, but I can't commit to the giant story I originally planned for. _

…

_Dear Mr. Potter…_

All of his life, James Potter had gotten what he wanted. Never had someone uttered the two letter word that is so beneficial for children to hear on occasions: no. He had gone through his first ten years of life without a care. Some might call him spoilt, and they would be correct, though there was a complexity to James that even he was not fully aware of. Such self knowledge would come later.

He had awaited the letter for quite some time. His whole life, really. From an early age, his father had told him stories, planting visions in his head of grand feasts, ghosts around every corner, and, of course, the Quidditch field, always green and shining in his father's tales. He'd be a natural Chaser, of course. His father was sure of it, and James knew never to doubt what his father was sure of. He'd have to wait a year to play, of course. First years weren't allowed brooms. No matter. He'd have his wand, at any rate.

Though rather small, skinny, and bespectacled, James was never bothered by his looks. He looked, as his father was fond of telling him, just like a Potter ought to. That had always been enough for James. After all, there were few enough true Potters left in the world.

He'd do it all at Hogwarts, he swore to himself. Become a Gryffindor, play Quidditch. Make his mark. It was all he wanted, all his father wanted. And so, when his letter arrived, it was all James could do not to drag his parents to Diagon Alley that very moment. Finally, his life could begin.

…..

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. _

It couldn't be. It simply couldn't.

But it was. Right here, in his hands…the letter had arrived. Just as it would for anyone else. As if he, Remus Lupin, was normal.

Oh, Albus Dumbledore had said he would try. But then so had the healers, and look how that had turned out. He had never really believed it. He'd wanted it so badly it made him ache, but he had never considered it a possibility. A werewolf at Hogwarts?

A _wizard_, his father would correct him. He was a wizard, and he deserved a chance to be more than his disease.

Now that chance had been given to him, and it could not be taken away. The letter sat on his dresser, the green ink drawing his gaze each time he entered the room. Sometimes he would pick it up, careful not to bend the edges or cause any creases, and read it. Again and again, he studied the words until he could recite them without hesitation. Even then, he still plucked the letter from his dresser and soaked himself in the words that gave him access to the one thing he wanted most in the word. One day he finally believed them.

He was really going to Hogwarts.

….

_Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. _

Sirius Black had always been rambunctious. No matter how hard he tried, he simply could not keep from being curious, loud, or stubborn. Often, he was all three at once. As September 1st approached, his mother couldn't resist telling him how she looked forward to his going away. He'd made sure to tell her the same.

Lately, he'd stayed holed up in his room, devouring his school books and trying spells. His ebony and dragon heartstring wand had done nothing but produce sparks…yet. It took time, his father had told him when he'd accidentally singed the tablecloth in a particularly impassioned attempt at the Levitation spell. He'd then banished his son from the room, and his mother went on for weeks about how the tablecloth was her Great Aunt Belvina's. As though that was supposed to mean something to Sirius. As though the accidental singe would become a mark of shame he was supposed to carry with him forever simply because a dead woman once served roast pheasant on it. Such tactics never worked with Sirius. He didn't care about his dead family members. He could hardly bring himself to care about the living ones.

He'd then been punished for the pus-filled boils inducing potion he'd slipped in Regulus' drink. It was really his father's fault, he argued, for keeping things like spider legs and pickled dragon tongue in the house.

"It really is very selfish of you, Father. Asking your children to sacrifice their tender, curious spirits because their own home isn't safe to explore in."

His parents hadn't agreed with him. Then again, they never did.

….

_Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31. _

Peter Pettigrew was a short, rather chubby boy. His mother always told him he took after his father, who, when Peter was two, had run off with a pair of South American seers and an Arabian witch to search for the world's hidden treasures. Apparently they had been unsuccessful, since Mr. Pettigrew never returned home laden with jewels as he had promised. In fact, he had never returned home at all, and his family was lucky to hear from him once in a year. Not that this deterred Peter from imagining his father as an epic hero. After all, adventures took time. That much Peter knew.

He had heard of Hogwarts all his life. Nevertheless, his mother had always insisted that he would be taught at home by her. She couldn't bear to let her pride and joy go off somewhere beyond her reach. Peter had never protested, never argued. He loved his mother dearly, and if she wanted him to stay home with her, that's what he would do.

Until he saw the letter in the mail. That was when he knew he couldn't stay home. As long as Hogwarts had been a concept, a mere idea, he could ignore it. Now the offer sat in front of him, and he couldn't pass it up.

He begged his mother to change her mind. She refused. He threatened to run away. She never let him out of her sight. He burst into tears and called her a terrible mother. She began to cry but held her ground. Finally, he stopped speaking to her altogether. Only then did she relent, just in time for Peter to send a letter confirming his enrollment at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

He sometimes felt guilty about his mother, but the feeling passed when he thought of all that lay before him. Hogwarts seemed one grand adventure, and he couldn't wait for it to begin.

…

"Mum, let go! The train's going to leave!" James squirmed out of his mother's arms. She wiped away a tear.

"You write as soon as you get there, you understand?"

James nodded impatiently. "Yeah, okay, Mum. Great. But I've got to get there first, you see."

She laughed. "What am I going to do without you? Well, go on then. You don't want to be late."

James ran to the train and climbed aboard. He looked out the window and waved to his mother. It wasn't until the train pulled out of the station that he wished he had given her one last hug.

Finding a seat proved difficult. James knew hardly anyone, and for the first time in his life, he was aware of how small he was in comparison to the fully grown seventh years. He peeked into every compartment, hoping to find one occupied by other first years. He finally found one with only a single passenger. A handsome boy with dark hair was staring lazily out the window. James didn't think the boy could much older than he was. On the other hand, the boy's entire person made James feel hopelessly inadequate, a feeling he was entirely unaccustomed to. _There must be other first years here_, James thought.

He was about to leave when the boy turned around and saw him staring. He raised an eyebrow, grinning. James ran his hand through his hair and gave what he hoped was a charming, easy smile. The boy motioned with his head that he should open the door.

James came from an old, wealthy Wizarding family. However, it was clear to him that his linage was nothing compared to this boy's. He lounged in the seat with an elegance James had never seen in anyone, and he was impeccably dressed. His grey eyes ran over James in one sweeping motion.

"Did you want to sit here?"

James nodded stupidly. The boy smirked.

"Could have just asked. Go on, sit down."

James did so without hesitation. The boy stared at him only a moment longer before returning his gaze to the window. James could hardly believe how stupid he was being. _God, I look like such a prat. _

"What's your name?" _That's better, _he thought. His voice came through loud and confident, and it drew the boy's attention immediately.

"Sirius Black," the boy responded.

"Nice to meet you. I'm James Potter."

James reached out his hand, as he always saw his father do after introducing himself. Sirius looked surprised for a moment but took his hand and shook it, smiling slightly.

"This your first year?"

"Yeah. You?"

"Same. Say, have you managed to do anything with your wand yet?"

James shook his head. "Nothing. Well, I set my dad's cloak on fire, but that was an accident."

Sirius laughed. "Well, that's something at least. Mine's only let off sparks."

As the conversation continued, James found Sirius to be utterly fascinating. He had heard of the Black family, but they kept to themselves. Besides, his father had often said, the family was filled with pureblood maniacs and deranged criminals. Even as he laughed with the boy, James couldn't help but wonder if Sirius wasn't a bit mad himself. His eyes were lit with something he'd never seen before. Something dangerous glimmered there, and James found it both alluring and disconcerting.

Nevertheless, the boy presented himself as nothing but charming and clever. James (privately) thought Sirius might even be more intelligent than he was. He certainly was more attractive, more at ease, and more mature. However, James quickly discovered how to even the score when Sirius revealed he had never ridden in a Muggle car. James had, and he told him all about it. Indeed, there were many things Sirius didn't know. His parents had sheltered him from nearly everything. Music, comics…anything with a whiff of tolerance for "blood traitors" was banned from the Black household.

"There are probably Mudbloods on this train who know more than me," Sirius said sullenly. James' eyes widened at the slur, and Sirius frowned.

"What?"

"You said…I don't want to say it."

"Mudblood? Oh, you don't understand. I don't mean…I don't care much what blood someone's got. My parents do, but-it's just slang now, isn't it? Everyone I know uses it and it's not like it matters. Muggleborns, they've got rights and everything, haven't they? It doesn't mean what it used to, really."

James shook his head. "No one I know uses that word. Ever. It just…it's not right."

"Oh." Sirius looked embarrassed for the first time. "Sorry. I didn't kn-"

"It's fine," James said quickly. Something about Sirius' sudden insecurity alarmed him, as though such feelings simply weren't allowed with a boy who so easily carried off massive amounts of confidence and charisma.

"No, I should have guessed. My family's rubbish, I already told you that." Sirius didn't speak again until the train pulled into the station an hour later.

…..

Meeting James Potter had only made Sirius' resolve firmer. He was determined to be in a house other than Slytherin. Gryffindor, preferably. He had no doubt in his mind that James would be going there.

So, when he was called early on to be sorted (he felt briefly grateful for the fact that his last name began with a 'B'), he nearly ran to the stool. The hat began to speak almost as soon as he touched it to his head.

"A difficult choice, very difficult. You come from the Black family, which would point you towards Slytherin."

_Not Slytherin, please, anything but that,_he thought.

"Oh! A rebel, I see. Plenty of courage and loyalty, that'll be Gryffindor. Bright, though, very intelligent…Well, I think I've made my choice. GRYFFINDOR!"

Sirius didn't see his cousins' reactions from the Slytherin table. He was too busy delighting in the fact that he had actually done it. He had shown them all.

….

Upon reaching the castle, Remus grew nervous. His father had been in Ravenclaw and his mother in Hufflepuff. He didn't know what house he would be in. Though he knew such a thing had never happened, he couldn't help but wonder if the hat would simply refuse to sort him. He was so preoccupied over which house he could possibly fit in that he jumped when Professor McGonagall called his name. He went to the seat in the front of the room, trying to ignore the hundreds of gazes that were now on him.

"Hmm…you aren't going to be easy, are you? You have a thirst for knowledge. There's also a good deal of kindness and a willingness to work for the things you want. Certainly there is bravery, though there is also great discretion and insecurity. You're cunning, there's no doubt about that…I wouldn't wish to cross you. Do you have any ideas?"

_I…I don't know. My dad probably wants me to be a Ravenclaw._

"What do you want?"

_Does that matter?_

"More than anything else. However, I think I have it. You would fit well in several houses, but I think your best bet is GRYFFINDOR!"

Remus was shocked. He had never thought he would be a Gryffindor. It wasn't until he sat down he realized it was really what he had wanted all along.

…..

"Pettigrew, Peter."

Peter shuffled over to the stool and placed the hat on his head, his hands shaking.

"Ah…another interesting mind. Not too much intellect, but a nature that yearns for adventure. You'll want Gryffindor, I suppose?"

_If it's all right with you. I mean, if you think I'd be good enough._

"Being good enough has nothing to do with it. It's all in where you fit best. You have a desire to be brave, there's no denying that. There's a spark there, and it can easily grow, given the chance. But I wonder if you're willing to give in to that chance."

_Oh, I am._Peter squeezed his eyes shut tightly, as if doing so would make the thought come through more clearly.

"Very well. If you truly want to be brave, then there's really only one place for you, isn't there? GRYFFINDOR!"

Peter's heart swelled with pride as he made his way to the Gryffindor table.

….

James had been sorted easily. The Sorting Hat had not said a word to him other than the loud "GRYFFINDOR!" that the whole school had heard. He had eaten with Sirius, and James was relieved to see Sirius' confidence had returned.

After the feast, James and the other newly initiated Gryffindors were led to their Common Room. As they settled into their dormitory, James looked around at the boys he would be sharing a room with for the next seven years.

There was, of course, Sirius, who slept in the bed next to his. Next to him on the other side was a short, chubby boy. On the other end was a pale, tired looking boy whose light brown hair fell into his eyes, almost as if to hide his face. Neither of them had identified themselves.

James watched as Sirius asked the small boy his name.

"Peter Pettigrew," was the timid reply.

Having gotten the desired response, Sirius then turned to the other boy, who was writing on a piece of parchment. He didn't notice Sirius sit on the edge of his bed and stare at him until Sirius gave a loud "Hey!" causing the sickly boy to jump. James recalled he'd jumped in a similar fashion during the sorting.

"What's your name?"

"Remus Lupin." The boy's voice shook slightly, though his face betrayed little emotion.

"What are you doing?" He ripped the piece of parchment out of Remus' hands and began to read it out loud.

"_Dear Mother,_

_The train ride was fine. I got sorted into Gryffindor, which I didn't expect. I hope Dad's all right with that, I know he wanted me to be a Ravenclaw. The feast was delicious, but not as good as-"_

He stopped and looked at Remus. "That's all it says. Why do you need to write to your mum so bad?"

Remus stared at Sirius for a moment before answering. James didn't know how Sirius could stand it. There was something in his eyes that was unnerving and intense, though his voice never changed its calm, steady tone. "Can I just have my letter back?"

Sirius handed the paper to him, grinning mischievously. "Fine, go on writing to your mum. I'm sure she's worried about you. You've probably never been away from home before, have you? Always been close to your mummy and daddy, right?"

Remus glared at Sirius before returning to his letter. Sirius's smile faltered; he seemed upset at this lack of response. With a graceful turn of his head, he was staring back at the others.

"Well, we should get some sleep. Maybe tomorrow we can all write to our Mummies. What do you think, Lupin?" Without looking behind him, Sirius gave a bark of laughter and began to undress for bed.

Remus looked up at the words. He didn't say anything, but James watched him look down once more, his head dipping even closer to the parchment. His quill was shaking, and eventually he set it down, giving his head a small shake. He looked at the letter for a long while before picking his quill up again. This time, his hand was quite steady, though his other hand occasionally clenched and unclenched convulsively. He didn't look at anything beyond his parchment.

James felt something tighten in his stomach and chest. He didn't know what exactly was making him feel so tense, but he knew it had to do with Remus. While Sirius was engaged in a conversation with Peter, he walked over to the boy's bed.

"Hey," he said. "How's your letter going?"

Remus didn't look up. "Are you trying to be funny? Because you're not."

"I wasn't, actually. I'm supposed to be writing to my mum as well. I guess I probably should, she'll worry if I don't. Hey, is that your cat?"

A grey cat sat perched on the windowsill. As though it knew James had mentioned it, the cat leapt down from the ledge and into his lap. Remus smiled.

"Yeah, he's mine. You're not allergic, are you?"

James stroked the animal. "No, my mum's got two cats. I would have brought one myself if I hadn't already brought an owl. Juno's her name, and she's bloody useless. You'd think they'd tell you the owl couldn't navigate before you bought it."

"My mum doesn't like owls," Remus said. "She's Muggleborn, see, and she's never liked birds. They scare her. She won't keep one in the house. My dad's got to go rent one every time we want to send a piece of mail. So, I got Hector instead."

"He's a nice cat," James said. "Hey, you know Sirius was just kidding about all that before?"

Remus shrugged. "It doesn't matter anymore. I don't mind."

James knew he wasn't telling the truth. The boy's eyes had returned to his parchment and the feeling in James' stomach had returned. He knew what he had to do. He also knew Sirius wouldn't like it one bit. "You'll sit with us tomorrow, won't you? At breakfast? I mean, there's only the four of us. I don't know who else we'll sit with. I don't know anyone else in Gryffindor."

Remus stared at him in disbelief for a few moments before responding.

"Sure, I'll sit with you. I mean, if that's all right." The look he gave James was one of hope mingled with doubt and fear. There was something else there, something James couldn't identify. He'd been hurt before, James knew that much.

"'Course it's all right. That's why I asked."

The beaming smile that flashed across Remus' face made James' stomach untangle instantly. It lasted only for a moment, however, as Remus' eyes shifted over to Sirius and Peter. "They won't mind?"

"Nah. Why should they? You contagious or something?"

Remus blushed and returned to his letter.

…

Sirius was horrified when he realized James had sat Remus down next to him. He'd told him just before they'd gone down for breakfast that Remus would be sitting with them. He hadn't mentioned the seating arrangement. Sirius didn't know what James was playing at, inviting him to sit with them. He obviously wasn't going to be any fun. Remus didn't seem any happier about sitting next to Sirius.

"Not going to say hello to me?" Sirius asked after Remus had greeted James and Peter.

Remus looked at him, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Well, when I sat down you rolled your eyes, so I thought we'd sort of skipped over the hello part." He returned to cutting his sausage without another word.

Sirius felt himself grow hot. He hadn't expected that at all. Now James was laughing at him. Even Peter looked amused, though he didn't dare laugh after the glare Sirius gave him. Through it all, Remus continued on eating as though it didn't matter. It annoyed Sirius beyond reason, and he couldn't contain himself.

"Yeah, I did roll my eyes. You know James only asked you here because he felt bad. Nobody wanted you here in the first place, and you come in acting like you're superior. You're not. You're nothing. No one here likes you. They feel sorry for you because you look like you've never had a friend in your life. No need to guess why."

Remus stood up from the table. He looked like he was going to be sick. He opened his mouth, but Sirius was quicker.

"Going to cry to Mummy? Some Gryffindor you turned out to be."

Remus' eyes widened. Sirius expected him to say something, but he didn't. He only turned on his heel and walked out of the Great Hall. Not once did he look back, and soon his slight figure had disappeared.

In an instant, Sirius felt sickened by what he had said. James was shouting at him, but he couldn't hear. He knew what he had said was wrong. It had been cruel. Worse, it had been something his cousin Bellatrix would say, something his mother would do. He didn't want to be like them.

What if it was inevitable? What if, whatever house he was in, he turned out like them? It was, after all, in his blood.

"- asked you not to, and you did it anyways!" James voice was coming back into focus.

Sirius turned to look James. No. He wouldn't let this happen. He wasn't going to let his family be right.

He sprinted out of the Great Hall, ignoring James' protests. He got lost several times before finally reaching the common room, breathless and panting. Remus wasn't there, but there was still the dormitory. Sirius clambered up the stairs, still out of breath. Sure enough, Remus was there, sitting on his bed, fists clenched. He wasn't crying, but Sirius almost wished he was. His face was paler than ever, and he shook. He groaned when he saw who it was. Sirius was about to say something when Remus' stood up and glared at him. His look made Sirius take a step back.

"What are you doing here? Don't you have anything better to do?"

Besides the obvious anger behind his words, there was a slight tremor, one that Sirius would have given anything not to hear. He had finally broken the boy, and he didn't know if it was within his power to put him back together.

"I- listen…I'm sorry. See, it's just that I- I shouldn't have said those things to you."

Remus didn't miss a beat. "Why not? They're true. I don't belong in Gryffindor, and I don't know why the Sorting Hat put me here. I'm not brave at all."

Sirius was taken aback. "No….no that's not true. Even if it was, how would I know that? I don't know anything about you. And it was horrible of me. I really am sorry."

_If only he would say something_, Sirius thought as the silence continued long after he had finished speaking. It soon grew unbearable, and Sirius forced himself to speak.

"If you want, you can come back and sit with us. James really did want you there. He wants us all to be friends or something. At least go down for him. I'll stay up here, if you'd like. I'm not really hungry anymore."

Remus looked up at him, hesitant. For the first time, Sirius saw fear in his eyes. He didn't trust Sirius at all. Perhaps he never would.

"Come on," Sirius said. "James will kill me if I don't come back with you."

Remus followed Sirius back to the Great Hall, hovering behind him like a lost dog. Sirius saw James staring with his mouth open at them. Ignoring him, Sirius sat down, motioning for Remus to do the same. The two were civil to each other, but nothing more. Sirius still wasn't sure if he liked Remus or not. He didn't seem to find anything he said funny, as James and Peter did.

When Transfiguration started, their first class of the day, they were partnered up. Peter had asked to be with James. Sirius protested slightly, until James motioned to Remus, who was still standing behind them.

Sirius turned to Remus. "Do you want to be my partner?"

Remus looked about the room before answering. "Sure."

At first, things weren't going any better between them than before. Then Sirius made his matchstick, which he was supposed to be turning into a needle, set on fire. It had been entirely on accident, but McGonagall had scolded him all the same. Remus had not laughed, or even smiled. He had only looked at Sirius.

"Good job," he said dryly.

However, while his mouth was set in a straight line, his eyes were sparkling. Sirius let out a laugh, and Remus smiled.

"I'd like to see you do better," Sirius said jokingly. "Go on then, Lupin."

Not only did Remus succeed in not setting anything on fire, he was the first to produce a silvery sheen on the matchstick. This earned him five points from McGonagall and the esteem of the entire class.

"It's just in the way you move your wrist, see," he said when Sirius marveled at his progress. "I-I think I know what you're doing wrong, and it's really easy to fix. I mean…you should ask McGonagall, she'll tell you better than I can."

"No, show me." Within minutes, Sirius had managed to turn his matchstick further than even Remus, a feat that both boys (and McGonagall) were impressed by. Indeed, by the end of class, the two boys had nearly forgotten the trouble that morning. Remus had a natural charm to him despite his quiet nature, and he had a particular talent for spell work. Sirius had to admit to himself that he had let the boy's initial appearance deceive him. Remus Lupin was not what he had expected at all.


End file.
